Yearning
by alberonas
Summary: she is a flower out of place, yet her love for him runs strong in her veins. —laxus/cana. au. new year story.
1. a thousand years

_AN: Hi guys! I know you all must hate me right now, but 2015 is here, so I wrote a quick oneshot for you all. Especially dedicated to **AyuzawaYume**. Just so you know, Laxana is one of my favorite pairings. Hooray. So... here's an ninetails&amp;modern!AU._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail._

* * *

**Yearning  
**_by FT Lover_

"I have died every day waiting for you;  
Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you  
for a thousand years;  
I'll love you for a thousand more..."

—Christina Perri, _A Thousand Years_

.

_{and I'll love you for five lifetimes}_

.

Cana Alberona knows Laxus Dreyar relatively well.

The rays of the sun are setting in shades of crimson and a fiery orange, and the brunette is standing serenely by her apartment's glass wall, enjoying the view. Her purple eyes blink, and the image of the sunset burns an image in the back of her brain. She waits, patiently. She has gotten used to the waiting, for her partner has dealt with an innumerable amount of troubles on a daily basis and she _knows_.

A glass of wine idly rests in her hand. Her other arm is wrapped around herself, like the brown-haired girl is trying to comfort herself, trying desperately to keep the pieces of herself from shattering on the spot. Outside, snowflakes are lax, drifting down from the heavens like fallen letters. Cana's grip on the body of her glass tightens marginally as she eyes the snowflakes that dance away, away, _away_—

As the dainty white flowers of winter pirouette towards the ground far below, Cana's brain instantly connects each snowflake with a human life. She chuckles, bitter. It was ironic how each human life was so _delicate _and so _pure. _How humans can be so _fickle_.

How love is like the life of a snowflake—each romance is unique, yet short-lived.

Yet she is here, waiting on a man whose return isn't even completely guaranteed.

She smiles to herself, and hides her smile in her hand. Her mirth remains hidden, and her hair falls over her shoulder like a fur blanket. Her ears perk up a tad, having a life of their own after being exposed to the foggy cold of the apartment, and she takes a sip from the alcoholic beverage waiting in her hands. With her free hand, she reaches atop her head and lightly pats down on the sleek appendage. The rays of the sun bathe her in a welcoming, warming embrace, and another bushy limb hiding behind her weaves its way into the open—it is magnificent, her tail.

Or, rather, _nine tails_.

Cana bites back another of her countless sighs and downs the remainder of her wine. Her ears bob up and down, and her tails wave to and fro, as if they are awaiting the arrival of a special someone.

* * *

The sun has departed from their world, and all that remains is a white winter wonderland.

Snow coats the city below her, and Cana can see it all as clear as day. A soft innocent veneer blankets the night sky. The rays of what was once a sunset are now coated in shades of royal blue and indigo, and the moon has risen, her eyes large and unblinking.

The brunette is on the roof now, where no one goes. It is she and Laxus' secret place, in this lifetime. Her feet are bare, leaving footprints on the grey-and-white concrete slabs the people call a roof, yet the snow yields under her every step. Warmth emanates from her despite the unbearable cold of Magnolia winters. Her tails sway back and forth like reeds on the bank of a brook, but their movements come with a _swish_ and they are soft, sweet, gentle.

Cana proceeds to lean against the ledge—it's a stubborn slab of rock, without a railing, because nobody ever comes up here anyway. Her ears twitch rhythmically as the wind blows past, striking up a hollow melody carved from the skyscrapers lining the horizon. Her glass is filled and dangles precariously from her fingertips, but she gazes at the concaved surface of transparency like it has offended her. After a moment's consideration, she releases a resigned sigh and gulps down the liquid in a single breath.

"May I join you?" a new voice persists, and Cana's ears press themselves against her dark brown hair in excitement. She knows who it is before turning.

"Laxus." She whips around, and her breath leaves her before she registers what is happening. He is standing there, clad in his favorite black coat with fur that lines his sleeves and his collar—fur that is nowhere near as soft as hers, of course, but that is no matter in this moment. Cana allows an easy, half-lidded smirk to slip across her face, and settles herself coyly down in the bitterly cold snow. Her tails wrap around her, but Laxus takes no notice. He has long since accepted her uniqueness—it makes up a portion of what draws him to her, like a moth to a burning lamp in the dead of the night; it adds to her foreign beauty, of which their world only believes to be a figment of imagination.

Cana slides a filled glass towards him.

"Care to join me?"

Gladly, the blonde man accepts her offer. His graciousness and gratitude is heartfelt and implies more than it sounds when he responds with a breezy smile and a, "Of course." Laxus Dreyar sidles up, bulkily due to his large, muscular build, and finds himself a spot close to her, for she radiates a sense of home he hasn't felt since he was a babe.

Once he's settled, Cana raises her glass halfheartedly. "Cheers," she mumbles, staring off into the distance. Through her peripheral vision, she can see Laxus' eyes trained on her, and she is suddenly filled with a sense of security.

"Cheers," he replies after a moment, and mimics the gesture. "To what, though?"

"To a new year," Cana proposes with raised eyebrows and an artfully hidden smile.

Considering his options, Laxus agrees. "To that it is." As the _clink_ of their glasses ring chimes in the air about them, he changes topics. "How long have we known each other?"

Cana resists the urge to say, "_You have no idea,_" but instead resorts to another smirk. Her ears twitch playfully. "Why ask?" she manages. Her walls have been built up over the centuries, yet as he speaks, she can feel the bricks crumbling.

"Because," Laxus fishes out a cigarette from the depths of his coat layers, and holds another out. He flicks a lighter on as Cana accepts the offer, and she is intrigued by the flickering spark that dances between the borders of turbulence and order. Then the light is dead within a flick and the butt of the cigarette is alit with an orange glow. "We've known each other for so long. Each coming year isn't really anything to us anymore." Cana examines her cigarette for a second.

"Hmm." Her reply is short, and she focuses elsewhere.

Laxus notices her absentmindedness. "Hey, what's wrong?" he frowns, and Cana's tails curl tighter about her in a fanning motion, as if on instinct. Her ears flicker, and snowflakes settle daintily on her eyelashes. In the commotions behind them—everything dulls down to only the faintest noise, as the cacophonous roar of car engines far down in the streets below and the clamor of passersby hurrying to a candle-lit home—lies a dulled-down scene. Other background noises fade out, but Cana is adamant.

In the snow, she is but a stone statue, a symbol of serenity and an everlasting, unrequited love.

A symbol of that that flows in a never-ending cycle.

Cana sighs and her gaze flits to the horizon, where the moon hangs low and bright in the sky like a promise.

"It's nothing. I'm just wondering; what if we stop?" It is now that she turns to him, all residue of hope once in her eyes now gone elsewhere. Laxus attempts to swallow the lump forming in his throat. Hopelessness is one thing he can't stand; Cana's sadness is another. Both—not a question.

Gruffly, he shakes it off. It's nothing, he tells himself, nothing at all. Laxus shrugs to make his point, and flicks ashes off the tip of his cigarette. Smoke billows out and surges towards the heavens, while the black flecks cascade and dissolve into the pure white snow. One of her tails wave. "Well, ain't gonna happen," he asserts matter-of-factly. He turns then, and his eyes drill holes into her head. "Another year isn't a problem for us."

_Of course; how could I have been so silly?_ Cana berates herself and stifles a sigh. Instead, a wan smile tickles her lips and she occupies herself with drinking. "Mhm," her reply is muffled. She pushes the glass as far away from herself as possible, feeling her blood rush to her face. "But the question is," she interjects, seeing Laxus' own distracted, faraway gaze, "what about _you_?"

Her face is young—it has remained so for all the years she has suffered through—and not a day older than any other lifetime in which she met this certain blonde.

"You tell me. You're the one who knows much, right?" Laxus says stiffly, but loosens up. "Come on, it's time for a new beginning."

The clinking of their glasses rings through the air this time.

"Perhaps." And Laxus is fine with her cryptic answers. Because just as Cana knows Laxus, Laxus knows Cana. And he knows that she means what she says, be it a mystery or not.

* * *

They sit in silence, in the falling snow. None of them say a word. The brunette enjoys it this way; in an evening of falling souls, they are at peace. She internally wishes that their lives would remain this way forever, but even she knows she is foolish for desiring such a thing.

Obviously, life is bound to cut their strings sooner or later.

After what seems like an eternity—and Cana knows how it truly feels, for that's how long she's lived—Laxus finally speaks. He removes the cigarette and shakes it over in the open air, and she watches steadily as more ashes rain down towards the pavements below.

"Cana, I need to tell you something." He avoids her gaze, instead focusing also on her object of observation.

"Okay," is all she says, and she thinks she's prepared for the worst. Praying for something even she doesn't know exists, her legs instinctively tuck in tighter towards her body.

"Mira and I," he swallows, and musters up the courage to look Cana dead in the eye, "we've decided to get back together."

Cana's throat is dry, and suddenly the snow seems to have drenched her in an ice cold shower, pelting her with stinging shots. But instead she smiles, _again_. "So," she begins, "I guess you'll be... moving out, huh?" Her laugh punctures the air, but it is melodious and deeper than the loveliness of a mountain stream. Laxus makes this analogy every time he hears that laugh, and he's heard it in several tones yet—sadness, happiness, you name it. Sometimes, when his mind is astray, he wonders if the mountains are where Cana came from.

Sadness is rare.

He grunts his assent, unwilling to speak another word. "I guess I will." Laxus shows her his left hand, on which the ring finger is adorned with another's band of precious metal. "I'll miss you, though."

Cana takes a stab at brightening the mood. She doesn't sit well with melancholy settings. "Heh, yeah. A lot of people do... But, say, seeing that it's almost midnight—" She makes it a point to direct a halfhearted glare in the blonde man's direction. "—shouldn't you be with your lovely girlfriend?" She drawls out the syllables in the last two words lazily, lolling her tongue with a playfulness unknown.

"No," Laxus states firmly. "I'd rather be with you."

"Even for midnight?"

"Even for midnight."

Cana wants to shake her head at him and call him the dastardly fool he is—that clod has no idea how much more that kills her inside.

_But that's just how much I love you_.

* * *

Cana can sense the final moments ticking away before she hears them.

She leans closer despite herself, despite the fact that the man sitting in front of her is taken and _unavailable_, in a sense, and that she has fallen into another maelstrom of useless emotions. Laxus does the same, and her heart skips a beat, yet she pulls on a straight face.

Teasingly, she says, "Then, what about your midnight kiss?"

Laxus raises an eyebrow, but does not retract or forbid himself from whatever-the-_hell_ he's doing—he's already engaged, for _goodness' sakes, why is he doing this_—but the lovely brunette in front of him is as beautiful as the sky is blue, and ignites a fiery passion within him he doesn't understand. Incomprehensibly, he is suddenly drawn to her—

They are about to close when Laxus mutters deeply, "I'm sure as hell gonna regret this."

Cana's mouth slants against his smoothly, tenderly, a gesture they seem to have known in the bottom of their hearts, and her fingers reach up, gently, flitting against his defined jawline, while Laxus' hand brushes against a tail and it fervently wraps around his wrist. She yields under his grasp, but he is only with ease, his touch a mere brush for fear of breaking her like porcelain.

Their kiss only lasts a minute—he tastes like smoke from his cigarettes, albeit a benign smoke that she finds comfort in, and she is like the wildberries and dreams he dreams at night—but makes up for Cana's lost eternity.

The clock strikes midnight, and they share their first kiss on the roof of their drafty apartment, under the watchful gaze of the countless stars and boundless skies.

And together, they spend their first moments of the new year with only each other's company and forgotten sentimentality.

_But why do you do this anyway?_

Because that one embrace he shares with her is worth her waiting for another thousand years.

Because that one embrace is what shows her he truly loves her, and only her.

Not Mirajane, not anybody. Just _her_.

And she knows that, and it still fails to cease the way it tears her apart inside because she knows it'll never happen again.

.

_{five lifetimes won't be a problem}_

.

* * *

_I might write a second chapter. I don't know... It seems incomplete. Anyway, happy new year! Please tell me what you think. x_


	2. time stands still

_AN: Before I start with this second chapter, I just wanted to say that I changed my username to __**alberonas**__. I hope it doesn't bother any of you... :-( I'll be sure to change the pen name section of the first chapter soon._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail._

* * *

**Yearning  
**_by alberonas_

"Time stands still—beauty in all she is. I will be brave;  
I will not let anything take away what's standing in front of me;  
Every breath, every hour has come to this;  
One step closer."

—Christina Perri, _A Thousand Years_

.

_{I'll wait as long as it takes}_

.

* * *

_"I'm sorry," he says, a gasp spilling out from breathlessness. _So this is what it feels like_, he can't help but wonder. When he looks back at her, she is still there, still in his reach, and his heart dances to a million beats._

_Fireworks begin lighting up the pitch blackness of the night sky and create a halo around Cana's hair and ears_—_he always believed she was an angel, but this only further proves it. Laxus' heart shatters as he watches her befuddled expression form, her eyebrows arching, eyes wide._

_He knows. He's not the only one in disbelief._

_Cana smiles then, and a softness he barely knows exists reveals itself, tearing away its walls and masks. She gazes at him, her expression unreadable, but he _knows_ it hides remorse. _

_He knows her beauty will break him, yet he tries to steel himself. Laxus props himself back up, away from the brunette, and his eyebrows knit together in disgust at himself. How could he do this? What the hell was wrong with him? For God's sakes, he was _engaged!

_"Don't be." Her response is delayed and barely counts as a whisper. The rueful smile remains glued on her face. "But as am I. Then again... It's not too late to change your mind." This catches his attention._

_Laxus isn't a completely moron; he can sense the hope tinting her voice, underlying and lacing her tone_—

_The blonde's throat tightens, and his voice cracks at the edges. Oh, how he _wishes—_so,_ so_ hard, so, _so_ much_—_that he had the choice to change his mind._

_But he doesn't. It's too late._

_"I'm sorry," he trails off, gulping audibly. "I don't think I can." He purposely scrunches his eyes together like a child unwilling to face punishment, but this time he knows he deserves it. He shouldn't have tampered with love. The fireworks in the distance boom, masking his sigh._

_Laxus runs an exasperated hand through his hair. Aggravation tears away at him like he's tissue. Maybe he is, being so weak-willed._

_"I'm sorry," he repeats, quieter. Cana is still as a statue; he wonders if she's listening to him, but he knows she is, and he's entranced by the way her violet irises search his for signs and the way they run down his scar._

_"I don't think we'd ever work..." For emphasis_—_or for leverage, he has no idea_—_Laxus holds up his hand, where the jewels imbedded in his dreaded ring gleam treacherously. Cana's eyes are glued to the shimmer even after he lowers his hand._

_She swallows, but another smile weaves its way onto her face_—_infuriating, really, how she can smile at a time like this_—_and she raises a brow. "Of course," she reasons, voice slightly off. "I'm sorry too. Don't tell your fiancé, okay?" Her tail flickers behind her._

_Somehow, Laxus pleads for her to break. He wishes that she'd show some more emotion, that she'd show him some more proof that she had real heart in that one kiss_—

_Suddenly, their shared embrace seems so far away that her lips are only ghosts upon his, and he desperately tries to cling onto the distant memory. Was it real?_

Why is she so okay? _He nods furiously and gets up to go._

_The blonde man leaves her there, alone on the roof and showered in the light of falling fire, and each step he takes away from her rips another piece of his heart off, leaving a trail that would, if one were ever to follow, lead right back to her._

* * *

_If only love was simple_, Cana hums in her mind. Her hips sway as she dances, alone, on the roof where they shared their midnight kiss. She shoves away the mindless thought that if only love was as simple as it was in those humans' storybooks, if only love was as simple as humans themselves—how _lovely_ that would be.

But she _knows_ that this world is a cruel, selfish place, as she's painfully learned from the first time she met Laxus Dreyar.

_The funny thing is that his name never changes_, she distracts herself with an innocent laugh and a naive smile that she uses to face the world, instead raising her head to the sky, where grey clouds cluster above the city skyline and the stinging sensation of ice cold droplets is exhilarating.

Yet Cana is not invincible, and she recognizes this as her vision blurs and her head spins. Dizzy from twirling in reckless circles with her arms spread wide towards the sky in a silent, graceful plea of something she cannot recognize, the brunette collapses on the hard concrete, breathless. Shards of glass from an internal fit she had earlier send chills and pricks up her spine.

Releasing a long-kept sigh, she finds herself bursting into a fit of giggles. In an attempt to free herself from her drunken trance, she leans her head backwards, over the slab of stone—a meek attempt at _protection_ from death, if she must say so herself—where she and _he_ had shared their _stupid, stupid, stupid _new year's kiss. Her hair cascades down over the edge like a curtain of earthly brown, a color _he_ always said he adored despite her avid protests that it was such a _simple_ color, unlike his, which reminded her of sunshine.

"He's a dumbass," she cries, absorbing the view of Magnolia upside down, to no one in particular. Her voice takes on a peculiar tone, and she sings tunelessly, "_He's a dumbass, he's a dumbass, I hate his guts... Foolish man, how little he kno-ows_—"

The rain creates the perfect mask, and she thanks the heavens as the tears that have pooled up for who knows how long finally end up spilling out, carving thin, dainty rivers down her porcelain cheeks.

Cana is drunk, and she knows it. Oh, _hell_, she knows it.

But on which, love or alcohol, is what she has no idea of.

* * *

They have lost contact. Communication has ceased between them since the last night of the previous year.

Cana feels that it seemed so far away, that dream. That once upon a dream, he loved her and was truly hers.

The next time they see each other is at Laxus and Mirajane's wedding. Cana has been invited as the maid of honor. She accepts with a beam so bright it hurts her cheekbones.

Guests mill about, and Cana has taken special care to hide her snowy white ears—ears the color of the frozen teardrops heaven shed on their fateful night together—in her stylish hairdo. Awkwardly, she is a wallflower, and only gazes on in silent curiosity at the _lovely_ couple, who saunter around greeting and conversing with the other guests.

It makes her want to laugh—oh, how they'll try to blend in with the more mediocre of the crowd, but to her they're like a pair of shooting stars on a moonless, starless night.

After all, the bride is beautiful, is she not? Her hair as white as snow, face as pure as the years have treated her, and eyes as charming as they are charismatic, drawing _him_ away, away, away in a web of lies—

Cana shakes her head to rid herself of the selfish thought. _No_, she convinces herself adamantly, _Mira is beautiful as she is kind._ And she refuses to give in to such mundane emotions. Besides, any hope of what could have been them has long since shattered within her, the castle having been desolated but the fort walls still intact.

Nevertheless, she rashly decides to drink herself silly. _Not like anyone will care, right?_ she muses, inwardly chuckling at her own humor, and makes her way over to the elaborately decorated tables located near the wall.

_Perfect._

With a barely kempt sigh, she reaches for a few of those dingy-yet-fancy champagne bottles, shrugging aside the weak litany of protests the waiter launches into, and politely avoids _people_, because they remind her too much of weakness and the weakness of feelings. Another pang seizes her, and she quickens her pace, her heels tapping against the stone steps as she disappears up the winding stairwell.

She fails to notice Laxus' searching eyes, fails to notice the light in his eyes when he finally seeks her out amongst the mingling crowd of guests, and fails to notice the way the light slowly died with unspoken disappointment when he saw how she didn't even stop by to say _hi_.

Unbeknownst to the nine-tailed fox, Laxus unhooks his arm from Mira's with an assuring few words telling her everything is alright when it's not, and listlessly follows the way _she_ went, like a moth following fire.

* * *

Cana seems to have a thing for roofs.

She lingers on the balcony, brushing against the tinted gossamer curtains that make the building and her reality seem like a fairy tale—well, maybe it is; Cana doesn't know. The lack of people and sudden surge of fresh air slaps her back to reality, and her ears unfold, twitching slightly in the unfamiliar breeze.

The air is warm, as is the midnight sky, and the moon drifts high in the sea of royal blue, accompanied by her twinkling starlets. Cana's tails ease themselves into the open, swinging gently with a rhythm she doesn't sing of. Her hair ripples over her shoulder in tender waves of chocolate, and her eyes blink with purple with mystery.

Her fingers flutter over the crude stone of the railing—oh, she has a thing for ancient architecture. It reminds her of what she once was, once could have been.

The balcony is vacant, and a lore-filled tune bubbles up Cana's throat. Humming, she swipes a bottle and submissively closes her eyes as the familiar burn of the liquor slides down her esophagus. She takes pleasure in the incredibly degree of alcohol.

_Dastardly fool; how little he knows, how little he knows_—_sweet lover, sweet kin, how I wish he would know_—

She can sense the words formulating themselves as she hums, louder now than before, and leans against the railing, singing like a minstrel to the moon about the dashing scoundrel who stole her heart so many years ago.

"You only sang for me once," _he _suddenly says, and Cana shuts up quicker than a mousetrap does upon catching prey. She tries to ignore him—for goodness' sakes, he's getting _married_; Cana, _pull yourself together_—but as his footsteps near, wildfires light in her heart and her self-control loses its grip.

"But I always loved your singing," Laxus finishes, occupying an empty spot beside her. He leans on the stone gargoyle crouching on the ledge like he's expecting something from her. Cana's eyes are half-lidded, and a smile can't help but spread across her face.

"Well, aren't you something else?" she raises an eyebrow, her tails swishing. She notices Laxus' eyes dart to the empty liquor bottles behind her, and she laughs mirthfully. "Oh," she waves him off, "don't worry about that."

He can't help but, and as questions cloud his mind—mindless things like _where were you? why were you ignoring me? _were_ you ignoring me?_—her image is imprinted in the back of his brain even when he closes his eyes.

Instead, he swallows them down and wordlessly offers her a cigarette.

* * *

A while later, and they are back with civilization. Separate, but back. Laxus seeks out Mirajane, who, unsuspecting, latches onto his arm with an easy laugh.

"I know they say you're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding day, but today _is_ the wedding day, and besides, this isn't an orthodox wedding," Mira explains hurriedly, an arm around Laxus' neck and her other hand lightly resting on his tuxedo-clad chest. "My," she remarks, winking slyly, "don't you look handsome?"

Laxus grins wolfishly, his arm cradling the small of his to-be spouse's back. His hand reaches to clasp hers, and he twirls her around. Mira's eyes are bright. "You're the most gorgeous person I see," he replies, eyes drilling deeply into her own.

A sudden flash of brown catches his attention through his peripheral vision, and his pupils discreetly dart in Cana's direction. He knows she can see him, and he is immediately uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" Mira probes, concerned, and he says nothing. Instead, he turns back to her and lowers his mouth on hers gently. Remorse threatens to shred him to threads when he hears the brunette a little ways away's sharp intake of breath, but she is gone before he knows it.

He draws away from Mira, whose cheeks are tinged pink.

"Better than okay," he manages a smile.

"Ahem," someone in front of them clears their throat gruffly, and Laxus sheepishly turns to face his grandfather, who coughs as he balances himself at the pewter. "Well, Laxus," Makarov Dreyar admonishes teasingly, "it would be great if you kissed the bride _after_ your vows." Affably, the audience supplies them with a complementary ripple of laughter.

"Knock it off, gramps," Laxus huffs, and he can feel Cana scrutiny as her eyes wander in their direction.

"Well, we have all the time in the world, don't we?" Mira supplies with a sweet smile that Laxus knows he should be falling for, but somehow he doesn't feel the dizzy spells and the breathlessness that knocks him off his feet when he's around his best friend.

That gets him thinking about her. Again.

Memories from new year's night brings sharp pains to his head, and he rubs his temple in aggravation as Makarov drones on about the dull wedding vows that'll bind him to a woman he pitifully doesn't love.

Oh, pitiful, pitiful Laxus Dreyar.

Mira's soft grip on his two hands yank him down from the clouds and he blinks.

"Do you, Mirajane Strauss, swear to love, obey, and cherish the man standing in front of you?" Makarov coughed once more. "Ah, excuse me."

Mira's laugh is a tinkling of morning bells, and Laxus can hear a few of his acquaintances in the pews swooning at her beauty, but he knows he prefers the mystery that comes with nighttime rather than daytime. She is just not for him.

"Do you, Laxus Dreyar, promise to love and cherish the woman standing in front of you?"

Laxus swallows, and the ticking of the clock in the back is not of time, but of a countdown till the explosion—a bomb that is his heart. He silently waits for it to shatter. Somehow, a tiny conscience in the back of his head pleads, _begs_ for _her_ to intervene, _beseeches_ the sound of her voice to _object_ and _say something, damn it, Cana_—

It seems like his mouth is moving on its own, and his throat tightens. When he talks, it feels as if there are marbles in his mouth, and he is a bumbling fool fallen headfirst in love with—

"I do."

And in that moment, his heart crumbled into dust.

_._

_{either way, I knew you wouldn't choose me}_

_. _

* * *

_I know, I know. My syntax and vocabulary deteriorates day by day... But anyway, I've decided to add one last chapter after this, so this story can be a three-shot. Yay! Hope you R&amp;R!  
Oh, and, I didn't proofread this, so I probably missed a lot of stuff and it sounds stupid... please forgive me. :-(  
_


	3. heart beats fast

_AN: Here's the final chapter. I can't believe I completed a story! Don't worry, though; I'll be getting back to my other ones soon too. Here, you guys will get a glimpse of... _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail._

* * *

**Yearning  
**_by alberonas_

"Heart beats fast; colors and promises;  
How to be brave; how can I love when I'm afraid to fall?  
Watching you stand alone, all of my doubt  
suddenly goes away somehow.  
One step closer..."

—Christina Perri, _A Thousand Years_

.

.

_{the first lifetime}_

Cana Alberona knows nothing, out in this great, great world, yet she is alone and ostracized by society for her lone beauty, and has risen in status as of the passing years. Her first day fills her with a wonder unknown.

"Come hither," she calls, a bird's song on a fresh dewy morning. Beside her, one of her ladies-in-waiting, Lucy Heartfilia, stands in silence as the sun climbs up to face the day. The blonde lightly nudges the former, who leans further out of the balcony to welcome the crisp air.

"Cana," she admonishes sternly, her chocolate-colored eyes clouded with worry, "you might fall."

"Oh, I have nine lives," the brunette teases, although the hint of truth in it implies far more than said. Lucy has never and will never understand the queen with the purple eyes, but she _knows_. "I wish every morning upon the _morgenstern_ that I will have something worth waiting for."

"Surely it must be something worthwhile," responds the patient blonde, who clasps her hands in front of her as a gesture of waiting. Cana resumes her foolish activity, casting her leg backwards slightly as to drink in the entire view of the French palace gardens like a blind man that had just seen the sun. She notices the tall stature of a figure she has yet to recognize.

The brunette squints, and she can feel her hidden ears twitching unexpectedly. The person moves, regal and astute, in the direction of their side of the castle, strolling towards their turreted lawn—who is he, this stranger?

A storey underneath the careless lady and her loving maid, Laxus Dreyar strolls on the court grounds. Beside him, his companion is another lord, Freed Justine, who ambles in accordance to his pace. The blonde man feels at ease on the lush green grass, listening to the casual banter of which Freed speaks of. Nearby, children's shrieks of laughter fill the air.

"As I was saying, Laxus," Freed interjects, "what _were_ you talking about this morning?"

Gruffly, Laxus glances away, uncomfortable with the early hour. "My father speaks of my fiancé. Truth be told, I'd always been told of an arranged marriage, but... I don't want marriage for my kingdom." The sun blinks an incriminating white.

"If I may," Freed replies after a while, "you may find love in your marriage."

"I don't know her," Laxus grumbles. "I haven't even seen her with my own eyes." They stroll nearer to the building.

"Sometimes love is hard to find. You will grow to cherish her, I suppose."

"Hard to say." Laxus keeps it short—he likes it that way, and Freed doesn't mind.

"Sometimes it only takes one glance—"

A sudden scream pierces the air right above them, and a rush of wind ruffles Laxus' hair. Alarmed, he glances up, only to find a mass of crimson dress silk and chocolate brown hair tumbling down towards him from above, shrieking in surprise. On instinct, he holds his arms out and catches the falling bundle, which collides with him and sends them both crumpling to the grass.

With a face-full of lace and silk, Laxus blinks at the _crazy_ person who assaulted him, only to find a lady he has never seen before sprawled on top of him. Confused, she faces him with her purple doe eyes, and somehow Laxus feels a strange tug in his heart as he takes in the person sitting on top of him. Her face is heart-shaped, with a mop of wavy brown hair messy from her tumultuous fall and features that attract him for no reason whatsoever. Funny, since _he has never felt this way before_.

He swallows, and gets up, her arms still latched onto his neck. "Sometimes, it does take a look," he mutters in wonder, eyes glued to the lady in his arms. He makes to put her down, but her eyes are unblinking in curiosity and her grip not even a margin looser.

Then she smiles, a cheerful gesture. "Sometimes, it really does," she finally blinks, undeterred, when she is brought back to reality. "I'm so sorry." She releases her hold on Laxus, and he puts her down. A hurried curtsey follows. "Thank you so much for catching me."

Laxus frowns amusedly. "If I may, what were you doing?"

The brunette brushes her hair out of her face and tucks the wave behind her ear, gaze still fixed upon the tall blonde, and matter-of-factly replies, "Searching for love."

"Your search surely doesn't lead off the balcony, does it?" Laxus deadpans. He knows it's not common courtesy to respond that way, and Freed tugs his sleeve with warning—surely, his father would _kill_ him, should he have heard the way he'd just spoken—but he can't help it.

"You never know," the lady answers cryptically. She grins. "I'm Cana. Just... Cana. You?"

"Laxus, prince of France." Laxus bows politely. "Perhaps we'll meet again, Lady 'Just Cana.'"

"Maybe we will," Cana raises an eyebrow spunkily and reaches for her fallen shoes as he and his companion depart, when Lucy charges out of the doorway nearby, terrified. At the sight of Cana's tousled hair and her condition, she breaks down into tears.

"Cana, are you alright?"

The lady pays her little mind and instead glances at Laxus' retreating back. "Very," she replies absent-mindedly, glowing from her little fiasco, "very alright."

.

.

_{the second lifetime}_

Cana can hear the master's grousing early in the morning.

"She isn't ladylike," he mutters, the clinking of the porcelain overbearing as he speaks. "I fear she'll never get a husband with her attitude."

"We've raised her right," comes the mistress' reply in a gentle, firm tone. She relaxes, fiddling with her hair and ears. The white fur tucks itself among the folds of her chocolate waves, snuggling amidst her mess of a bun. "When the time comes, everything will be alright. The Dreyar family's arrangement cannot be missed."

"Word's out that their son is headstrong and boorish. Perhaps he'll be a great partner in business." She sets her teacup down on the plate with calculated measure—she is fearsome as she is cunning, and, in Cana's opinion, a most threatening adversary.

"Oh, Cana," a sweet voice beseeches beside her as she gathers the remainders of what's to wash and makes her way upstairs. She glances to her side to see Mirajane. Early as it is in the morning, her corset and dress are tight and accordant to the ways her parents desire. Mira's blue eyes are bright and speak to her.

"Yes, my lady?" Cana curtsies slightly, and a light smile dusts her cheeks. She doesn't dislike Mirajane in the least; it's her hope that keeps her going with her love, not her spite. Mira clasps her hands.

"I don't know what to do! I haven't met the Dreyars' son! What if he doesn't like me?" Her snowy white locks bounce as she hisses in anxiety. Bitterly, Cana knows that she whispers only because it's deemed _wrong_ to talk to _servants_.

"Trust me," Cana's brows rise into her hairline, and she smirks besides herself, "he'll have a hard time doing that."

_He doesn't know you._

Mira is undeterred, but her shoulders loosen. "I don't know. All these guys; they're all so guttural! They know nothing in the least about our culture, and—and—"

"Mira," Cana ignores the supposed honorific, seeing that she and Mira are far more than just acquaintances by now, "don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll love you the minute he sees you."

_Maybe this time…_

The day drifts by like any other—Cana has gotten used to it, by now; the sun's rising and falling is only but a never-ending cycle. Her toiling goes unnoticed by the master and mistress, who busy themselves with pampering for their grandiose dinner with one of the richest families in the colony.

It is dusk when the clamor of new and old voices blending into a jumble reach Cana's ears, which twitch momentarily. The brunette bends down over her work—it is a turkey, magnificently cooked, which has wasted many an hour of her longevity—and shuffles into the dining room, masterpiece in hand.

The large hall is empty, and Cana sidles up to the rectangular dining table located in the middle, when she hears a deep clearing of the throat. Caught off guard, her eyes dart up to see a dashingly handsome man she finds somehow familiar and doesn't know—she _does_. Longing suddenly implodes in her chest, but she shoves it away with unprecedented force.

_Laxus._

Her heartbeats drum to a funny little tune in her heart. The blonde man eyes her warily, yet his eyes are alight with curiosity as he steps closer. The two are in solitude in the dining hall, and the backdrop buzzes with the busying servants in the kitchen.

"Excuse me," Laxus begins, and Cana sets down the turkey hastily. Her mind is wiry with unkempt emotion. _He looks exactly the same…_

"Y-Yes, sir?" Her voice is fragile, weak, and she feigns ignorance as she curtsies. Her eyes are glued to the ground.

"I beg your pardon, but have we met before?" Laxus raises an eyebrow, his eyes fiery and brilliant in the light, just as she remembers. A devilish smirk makes its way onto his face. The way he gazes at her makes her heart leap into the sunset.

Cana can't help it. A smile slides onto her face easily; such emotions haven't shown so quickly in so long that she beams even brighter at the notion. She narrows her eyes playfully. "I think not." The brunette occupies herself with the cutlery.

A silence follows, in which Cana revels. She just misses him, and doesn't mind any moments as long as they are with _him_, be it in silence or simply _anything_. Quickly, she adds, "Sir."

The blonde man's eyebrows rise in amusement; she wonders what he finds funny, but doesn't care to delve. "You're interesting. Might I ask your name?" he says, crossing his arms venially. His eyes glow in the candlelight, and Cana is spellbound by the mesmerizing sapphires in his eyes.

"C-Cana," she blinks, dumbfounded and slowed.

"I'll be sure to remember that, Miss Cana," Laxus drawls, her name rolling off his tongue in a way that sets her heartbeat fluctuating wildly. Cana draws in a breath, curtsies once more, and sidles away to the kitchen, her eyes alight from finally seeing him again.

.

.

_{where did I go wrong in loving you?}_

.

.

Cana's fingers dance against her glass as she hums another tuneless song. She has grown accustomed to the loneliness that she finds herself waking up to each rising dawn, yet she finds it hard to let the memory of his warmth go—the feel of his larger hand against hers; the comfort she finds buried in the layers of his precious fur jacket, the one that could never match the texture of her own yet which she treasures even now, in the depths of her distant memory—

She yearns for his touch each and every day and night; not a single fleeting moment passes where he does not plague the recesses of her mind.

The brunette lounges on the roof now. Even in solitude, she feels enveloped by the embrace of the vast expanse of sky above her; it isn't the same as _him_, but it's all she can get now. She leans her head backwards and rests it against the concrete platform, her eyes drifting shut. Instinctively, her tails wrap around her in a dramatic flourish.

Snowflakes twirl and glide through the air. With graceful steps and tiptoes, they envelop her tails, frosting the tip of her nose and settling on her long, dark eyelashes—

It's been years since they split. Cana and Laxus have ceased contact completely; the fox can't afford to have her heart broken twice in a lifetime. Once per few decades is already hard enough—she doesn't know if she can bear any more.

Suddenly, her phone buzzes, and she glances up in surprise at having been torn out of her silent reverie. Awkwardly, she picks up the device. Honestly, these mundane electronics have always been too far-fetched for her liking.

_Caller ID: Laxus Dreyar._

The brunette's eyes widen, and _oh,_ how she_ wishes_ she could pick up and plead for his return. _Come back, Laxus. Please._

But she remains strong as adamantine—albeit a cracked, worn piece—as her fingers drift over the two buttons: two choices she has, yet none she wishes for.

With a resigned sigh and the blinking back of stinging tears, Cana looks away and denies the call.

_I'm sorry, Laxus. I can't do this anymore_.

The nine-tailed fox's legs curl in closer as she sits up. Her voice cracks a tad when she speaks to the open air, to the prospective Laxus made out of swirling snowflakes that she can picture vividly sitting beside her, "I have loved him for hundreds of years."

Cana beckons to the innocent white blanket above her, as if recalling a plea. "I loved him. I love him. But he always ends up with Mirajane, or he dies." She tips her head backwards again. Her hair cascades down her back and over the edge of the building. Memories come flooding back to her, and she gladly sinks herself into the rushing river.

The brunette spreads her arms out wide in the snow; her warmth permeates through all ice and cold, and she waits as the white droplets waft towards her.

"What did I do wrong?" she whimpers childishly. Her demeanor is naive and innocent as that of a youngling's, although she could be considered anything but. Cana releases a ragged breath, eyes brimming with a stinging sensation she has to admit she has missed. "What was so wrong about the two of us? What was so wrong about my happiness?"

It is then she realizes that maybe she isn't destined to have happiness, anyway.

After all, what more can a cursed fox do?

* * *

_{I've tried too hard already}_

.

.

Cana wanders in solitude as the days pass, yawning and blending into one another. Her desire to repent for what she knows not of which she has wronged is the only thing that prevents her from shattering.

As the spring breeze briskly follows its course and sweeps Cana's hair grandiosely about her, the brunette is at ease, having attained serenity. Idly, she nudges her finger against an early bud, and, as if on cue, the petals shyly claw their way out into the open.

_Spring is a time for new beginnings_, the nine-tailed fox decides, and can feel her tails quivering in excitement. Prospectively, she dreams of her own new beginning, where she is reincarnated not as a fox, but as a human... for various reasons.

She feels her phone buzzing, and a newfound hope blossoms inside of her, only to have her viciously shove it away. Maybe her problem _was_ him; who knows? As the brunette answers the call and begins sauntering home, only one thing runs through her mind: if she desires a new beginning, she must purge herself of all old.

Even the apartment they once shared.

Yet, as she closes the door behind her and slings the cozy peacoat off herself, her ears and tails roaming free, another burst of longing wells up within her chest.

_Oh well._

"Yes, thank you," she says into the device, distracted. "I'll be sure to inform you soon about whether I've decided to sell it or not. Goodbye."

Outside, lackluster grey clouds hover in the sky. Their teardrops wash incessant patterns on the windows, and the pitter-patter serves as a comforting coping mechanism. A mug of tea lies warm, clutched between her palms, when the doorbell rings. It's been a while since she drank booze or the like; the burn of alcohol only further reminds her of the crazy nights they spent together drinking and partying. Listless as she is, Cana sways and drifts over to the door and flings it open without a care in the world; she's long since given up any hope that in this lifetime, she'll be seeing much more of him.

Surprise shocks her in the nerves and rushes over her like a wave upon the sand, and the brunette cannot believe her eyes.

Like he's been God-sent, there, standing in the doorway, breathless and drenched in spring rain, is Laxus Dreyar.

They stand in silence for what seems like decades—the dark-haired beauty that stole his heart long ago, and the dashing fair stranger who stole hers far back yonder. The only sounds that disturb their silence are the occasional _drip-drip-drop_ of rainwater onto the marble floor and the rise and fall of Laxus' uneven breathing.

Cana tenses, releasing a breath she doesn't realize she has been holding all this time, and a smile weaves itself upon her face. "Laxus?" she murmurs despite herself, feigning casualness.

"Cana." The blonde man seems to have been running, for he steps towards her and her artificial smile drops immediately. Said person traces her vision along the alluring scar on his right eye and reflexively takes a step back. The slightly hurt expression in his eyes wounds her, but she remains steady. "Cana, I—"

Cana steels herself, and with a vague sense of courtesy, she says in a polite and strangled tone, "L-Laxus. Why don't you come in? You're soaking wet."

Mildly perplexed, Laxus can only find it within himself to agree.

* * *

Cana slides a cup of tea across the glass table Laxus' way and seats herself next to him—their proximity is the only pleasure she allows herself.

With restriction evident in her voice, she sips from her own mug and asks, "What're you doing here, Laxus?" Even with all her restraint, she can't help the pain that slips through her facade. Laxus looks away; he is unable to bear the sight of her sadness, for he's already caused her enough pain.

He sets down the cup and turns back, his gaze firm. "Cana..." He struggles to find the right words. "I came to tell you something."

"I don't have any money, if that's what you're asking," Cana says jokingly after a period of silence, wanting to lighten the mood, followed by an awkward laugh.

"Mira and I divorced," Laxus forces out, and suddenly it feels like a great weight has been lifted off his chest. "And... I'm sorry. For everything."

Cana inhales so deeply and sharply it hurts. "W-Why?" is all she can muster.

"Because she told me that if I truly loved someone, no matter what the cause, I should always be able to find them. And that she knew it wasn't her," Laxus chokes on the last word.

All yearning that has built up from when he left her implodes inside Cana, and her eyes are wide. Her ears perk forward alertly, and her tails swish to and fro.

"I came back to find you."

The tears that never came before now well up in Cana's eyes, and she can't help but slam down her mug with unprecedented force and wrap her arms around his muscular build, unwilling to let him go ever again.

"Mhm," she mumbles into his chest as he wraps his own arms around her. "I know."

And a genuine smile finally stretches upon her face—a blooming happiness she hasn't felt since the previous year—and she thinks that maybe, _just maybe_, some rule-breakers can be accepted.

And maybe _this time_ they can work.

.

.

_{just for this lifetime, maybe we'll finally have our own 'together'}_

.

* * *

_Endnote: I hope you guys enjoyed the story! Hope you R&amp;R!_


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